


Tight pants and rumpled suits

by orphan_account



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, Lawyers, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2014-09-20
Packaged: 2018-02-18 03:09:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2333057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sexually frustrated lawyer, a sassy paralegal and a copy machine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tight pants and rumpled suits

**Author's Note:**

> First and foremost, you should know that I spent my summer holidays marathoning [Suits] and that I got obsessed with male clothes (and Donna's wardrobe, and Jessica's shoes, but that's totally another story.)  
> Secondly, I've been splitting my head in half while trying to come up with a dashing, incredible plot. And then I gave up, and just wrote porn.

Ever since he had been recruited at Pierce & Fury, Bucky tried very hard not to stare at the cute little paralegal who kept strutting in the hallways, looking all smart and primp and... okay, so, so very cute. It wasn't like he sought for him or hunted him through the whole building. And according to his friends and exes, he himself didn't need to do anything to attract attention but stand where he was, didn't even need to open his mouth and tell the world he was one of the most brilliant law majors who graduated from Harvard. Which wasn't such a nice compliment, now that he thought about it, to just stand there and be pretty, when he had such a smooth, agreeable voice and so many interesting views about politics, literature and rock music, at least according to himself.

No, he didn't stalk the cute paralegal. Fate and The Powers That Be were taking care of it, making them come across each other on their way to the firm's library, or bumping into one another while waiting for the elevator. Or even meeting each other at the same food truck, the one on the opposite side of the street that sold the best turkey sandwiches in Manhattan. It was getting kind of ridiculous, considering that the little blond didn't seem too fond of Bucky.

To be honest, Steve Rogers looked like he didn't think very highly of any of the lawyers employed by Nicholas J. Fury and Alexander Pierce, Founding Partner and Senior Partner, sharks among sharks and basically two of the most powerful people in New York City. Bucky considered himself very lucky when he caught the sharp eye of Pierce right after he got his diploma _cum laude_. He knew for a fact that Rogers had never set a foot on Harvard campus, that he had probably graduated from an obscure, second-rate university. Yet the guy had the nerve to look everybody right in the eye, saying "no" more often than "yes" at any associate who thought he was there but to take notes and make coffee. Bucky acknowledged that he did his job well, but even his pert little bottom hugged in tight pants didn't give him the right to treat his coworkers with such contempt. The only persons he seemed to show some kind of respect and sympathy were Sam Wilson and Natasha Romanoff. And wasn't that infuriating to see him laugh with his pretty head thrown back at some stupid joke Wilson was cracking? Or witness him and Romanoff look at each other with such fascinating intensity and quiet admiration?

Bucky came to a halt on his way to the photocopy room when he spotted Rogers' slight frame entering the very same room, a stack of files clutched under his arm. Shaking his head, he felt like a fool at his own uncertainties. He wasn't scared of a guy who barely reached his shoulder and looked like he weighed ninety pounds all wet. He wasn't scared of the maddening lust coiling in his guts every time he saw the guy's dumb face.

Shit. He really sounded like he got it bad.

As soon as he came into the room, Bucky was greeted with the sight of Rogers bending over the copy machine. It was too late to turn around and walk away as though he never intended to go there in the first place, even if the paralegal had yet to be aware of his presence at all. Call it a matter of self-esteem, if not honor.

"Hey," he saluted with a noncommittal hand gesture, and in the same time Rogers let out a streak of colorful curses.

"Who the fuck is the stupid asshole who blocked the photocopier and left without reporting to the Tech girl?"

Said Tech girl being Darcy Lewis, Bucky felt rather sorry for the poor guy who made the mistake and was too shit-scared to face Lewis' wrath. She'd once tased a Junior Associate who'd unfortunately crashed his computer down while downloading the latest version of his favorite video game.

Rogers managed to slide one side of the machine open. Was he even allowed to do that? Bucky thought about Lewis' taser, made a face and took one step back.

"I think I'll come back later…" he started, reaching blindly for the door behind him.

"Got it!" Rogers declared triumphantly after he managed to tear a big crumpled sheet of paper out of one of the rollers. He threw it in the dustbin as if it were personally offending him, then closed the photocopier and straightened up, looking very proud of himself.

Bucky blinked, genuinely surprised by Rogers' success at fixing the machine by himself. He would probably have given up without trying first and rather faced Lewis' weapon and sarcasm. The paralegal half turned towards him. A coy little smile was playing on his lips.

"It doesn't take a fancy degree from Harvard to repair a fucking photocopier," he said, voice dripping with smugness.

Gosh, but the little blond swore like a sailor… Also, did his smile look really coy or was Bucky making things up?

"Hold on, did you just call me stupid?"

"Why, are you feeling aimed at?" Rogers bit back.

"What's your problem?" he blurted out, more frustrated than truly angry.

Rogers stared at him, unfazed.

"I don't have a problem anymore. Unless you're the one who fucked up with the photocopier, though it'd be very stupid of you to come back to the crime scene while I'm here. Are you that stupid? Because in that case, I do have a problem. _You_ would be _my_ problem."

Oh my God.

"Oh my God, you're such an ass. No, of course not I didn't mess it up before I came in here. I actually needed it for work… Why do I even have to justify myself to you?"

Rogers quirked an eyebrow. His face wasn't exactly beautiful, Bucky mused. His bone structure was a bit too sharp, his nose too prominent. However his blue eyes were shaded by the longest, most endearing lashes he had ever seen, even longer than any of the girls' he had dated (three of them if he had to count. They had happened in high-school, just before he realized he liked dicks better than tits.) And his lips, full and partially open…

"Anyway, are you done with it? Because I need those copies done by noon."

"I haven't even started," Rogers said.

"Then what are you waiting for?"

Rogers' eyes widened slightly and his mouth tightened. Apparently Bucky had managed to put the guy in front of his own mistake. Good. The blond turned his back to him and unfolded his files before making copies.

Bucky dozed off while Rogers completed his task. He hadn't left the building the evening before like he was supposed to, but worked the whole night to sort out the intricate mess that was the case he had been assigned to by Senior Associate Maria Hill, who was in charge of the collaborators. Bucky tried desperately to impress the older lawyer, for it was the only and easiest way to be made Junior Associate by the end of the year. He had no shame in admitting his ambition and that he had his own agenda, while some of his more naive coworkers stated that they wanted to defend people's interests, to protect the weak and the defenseless. While it was a respectable goal, he knew that justice didn't always work that way, that money and personal interests interfered with truth and innocence more often than not. Bucky took pride in being a pragmatist rather than an idealist. He thought it was one of the many reasons Hill trusted him with the more delicate cases, and he strove to live up to her billing.

A thin hand shook his shoulder. Startled, he looked up and found himself almost face to face with Rogers' concerned expression. The guy was so close Bucky wondered if he was actually catching the scent of his shampoo. Probably just his imagination playing tricks.

"I'm done," the blond said, lips soon twisting in a wondering pout.

Bucky sighed, feeling like a fool.

"Are you okay?" Rogers asked.

"Huh, yeah. Just a little tired, I guess."

Rogers didn't leave the room, nor did he pull away from Bucky's side. He looked so small and wiry, yet Bucky would never call him fragile. There was something in the way he held himself, as though he were bigger than he truly was; something in his eyes also, an unalterable resolution that Bucky started feeling jealous of.

"I stayed up all night…"

"In your office, I know," Rogers provided.

The not-quite smile that graced his features felt like a not-so-small victory.

"You're spying on the collaborators now, Mr Rogers?"

The blond rolled his eyes and laughed. Bucky could feel himself getting a genuine smile on his face. Take that, Wilson.

"Not really. I just happened to pass by your office in the early morning and saw you wearing the same rumpled suit for two days straight," Rogers admitted, and wasn't that interesting?

"So…" Bucky said carefully, still wondering whether they were actually flirting with each other or it was a side-effect of his own weariness. "I take it you've made a habit of looking at my clothes everyday if you noticed the recurrence of my wardrobe, haven't you?"

The other man huffed slightly.

"Would you believe me if I told you I have an eidetic memory?"

"If you phrase it that way, then no, I don't."

"Good. The reason why I notice your clothes is because I'm interested in you."

They definitely were flirting with each other. Rogers didn't beat around the bush and went straight to the point. According to Bucky's book (and the stir of arousal in his lower regions), it was the most endearing thing in the world.

Rogers had to raise his chin to look at him properly. Shivering with anticipation, Bucky tilted his head so he could meet the other man's parted lips. The tip of a moist, pink tongue ran across Rogers' bottom lip…

"Aren't you supposed to make copies for your case?" the blond whispered, breaking the spell that Bucky thought had settled between them.

"Crap. I really do. What time is it?"

"11.46 am."

"I have an appointment with my client in less than ten minutes," he groaned, clutching his head with one frustrated hand.

"Give me your files. I'll do it for you. Go back to your office and get ready for your appointment, I'll bring the copies to the meeting room."

Bucky shot him a suspicious look. Haughty, irascible paralegal Steve Rogers never, ever offered you to make photocopies for you. Then again, neither did he used to cornering you in a secluded room and telling you how hot he thought you were. Well, he didn't really put it that way, but Bucky clung to his hopes.

"Thank you…" he said, not still quite believing Rogers' offer.

"You're welcome," Rogers replied with a smirk.

¤¤¤

After the meeting came to an end, Bucky saw his client to the door. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the paralegal's tiny frame looming around. The guy strode straight up to him as soon as he was alone.

"It's the Carter case you're working on," Rogers said.

"Yeah, it is."

"It's a _pro bono_."

Bucky didn't say anything. He didn't see what Rogers was getting at.

"What if it is?"

Rogers pursed his lips and watched him warily.

"You stayed up all night for a _pro bono_."

"It's a tricky case and I have yet to gather all the elements I need if I want to bring it to trial…"

"You know, a lot of collaborators are given _pro bono_ cases, but they usually drop the dirty work on my or the other paralegal's head."

"You know the old saying, if you want something done, do it yourself."

"You could have asked me to help you."

Bucky smiled.

"And let you think I'm a lazy bum?"

"I wouldn't have… You're different."

"Is that why you checked me out? Because I'm hardworking? You don't have much of a choice but to work hard if you want to keep your job at Fury & Pierce. Can't say I'm not disappointed, though," he added, dropping his voice lower so that Rogers was the only one who heard him. "I was sure I caught your eye thanks to my hot body clad in expensive, rumpled suits…"

"Shut up," Rogers hushed him with a grin. "Anyway, good luck with your case. I mean it."

Bucky kept staring long after the blond turned away and disappeared in the hallway.

"I know you do," he whispered.

The Carter case seemed to come to a dead end, no matter how hard he tried to find a breach in the defense. Sharon Carter was bringing an action against Dr Arnim Zola after her great-aunt Margaret passed away at the old folks' home where Zola was also practicing.

Old people were dying everyday in such institutions, and at first Bucky considered it a hopeless case. But Sharon had been very vehement in her accusation. The way aunt Peggy died wasn't of natural cause, and she highly suspected Dr Zola wasn't as dedicated to his patients' well-being as he pretended to be. Unfortunately, there wasn't any evidence that could prove Sharon's assertion.

Bucky felt like banging his head against his mahogany desk. Repeatedly.

¤¤¤

Two days later, an unexpected memo was waiting for him in his office, letting him know that twelve years ago Zola had been employed by the nebulous HYDRA Pharmaceutics and was engaged in some fishy research on Alzheimer's disease.

¤¤¤

The copy machine was broken down ‒ again. Bucky thought about kicking it with his Armani shoe before remembering how Rogers had managed to fix it with a swift, single move. He sat on his heels in front of the photocopier, trying to figure out how to open the damn thing.

Jesus, if the skinny paralegal was able to do it, so did he. Right?

He grimaced a little at the memory of Rogers dismissing his Harvard diploma as though it were as easily achievable as a driving license.

"Need a hand?"

Steve Rogers was leaning against the door-frame, arms crossed in front of his narrow chest and eyes glinting with amusement. Bucky knew when his fights were a lost cause.

"If you may? I guess I'm no good at all with copy machine maintenance."

The blond guffawed and hushed him away. He opened the machine and pulled out the new sheet of paper blocking the roller.

"All fixed up."

He didn't get up, but stayed crouched down at Bucky's feet.

"Now, do you need a hand for something else?" he asked, all dark, blue eyes and full, sulky lips.

Bucky felt a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"You already helped me a lot. The memo on my desk… It was you."

"Was it useful?" Rogers inquired, even though it was obvious he didn't need Bucky to tell him so.

"We're putting Zola on trial. And we found more suspicious deaths at another old folks' home. How did you even know what to look for?"

"It's my job to know such things."

Bucky let his fingers push fine strands of hair out of Rogers' brow.

"Thank you. You didn't have to do that for me."

"Of course I did," Rogers whispered back. "I told you, you're interesting."

"Is that your way to let me know that you like me?"

"Do you really need to ask?"

Bucky stopped breathing when the blond head leaned forward and brushed against his hip. Extending his arm behind him, Rogers pushed the door close.

The whole situation felt unreal. He'd never pegged the paralegal the kind of guy who ambushed people in the copy room for steamy, hot sex encounters during work hours. He felt like falling into the rabbit hole and getting himself in the middle of a cheesy porn scene, only that time he found himself as one of the main leads instead of the creepy, awkward peeping Tom. Could his life get any better?

Apparently it could, for Rogers' hands went for the fly of his pants and unzipped it as deftly as he fixed the copy machine. A nervous bubble of laughter went past his lips. Rogers gave him a dirty look.

"Sorry, sorry," Bucky amended quickly. "I swear I'm not laughing at you. Please, go on."

"You sure about that?"

"God… Are you trying to tell me you'll leave me here with a raging hard-on because I can't believe how lucky I am right now?"

The blond pretended to think about it, even tapping his chin with the tip of his index for good measure.

"Asshole," Bucky said playfully.

"Maybe later," Rogers promised before returning to his task.

Both his hands grabbed the waist of his pants and tugged down thoroughly, revealing inches by inches Bucky's bulging crotch, still clad in his underwear. A low growl escaped Bucky when Rogers dropped wet, open-mouthed kisses on it.

"Fuck, yeah…"

Full lips traced the length of his cock, ghosting over the tip and finally, finally closing around it through the cotton of his boxer. A strong jolt of pleasure ran through Bucky's body when Rogers used the slightest bit of teeth. His knees turned into such jelly he almost tripped backwards. His lower back hit the copy machine, which added a mechanic hiss of its own.

Eventually, it became clear in spite of the haziness clouding his mind that the tiny paralegal acted like a fucking cock-tease and planned to keep his work on Bucky's dick minimal the longer he could.

Impatient fingers grabbed a fistful of soft, fair hair.

"Why don't you go a little further, Rogers?" he said, not quite pleading but still awfully eager to bring their little game to the next level.

"Why don't you ask nicely, Mr Barnes," the blond retorted, pulling his damn face away from Bucky's crotch.

Bucky bit his lip. Giving in right then sounded a little premature.

"You really want me to beg you this early?"

"Well, I was under the impression that you really liked the sound of your own voice."

"I do have a nice voice," Bucky chuckled. "Alright, please suck me, Mr Rogers."

The blond all but beamed at him. His treacherous heart started melting.

His prick trembled lightly when fresh air from the a/c above their heads hit it. Rogers' attention zeroed in on it. It was thrilling to see him wash it with his warm breath, then open his mouth, wider and wider, till his lips wrapped themselves on the head, engulfing it at last.

Bucky couldn't help but close his eyes, no matter how much he wanted to see Rogers work on him. The pleasure and the lust were too overwhelming. He felt oversensitive, maybe because of his insane work schedule, the tiredness that was building inside his mind and his body in spite of himself…

His hand tightened its grip on the paralegal's hair when Rogers found an indulging rhythm in his ministration. It took all his willpower not to growl loudly, muffling his voice at the last second so that it became only a painful whimper. Rogers' lips curved into a smile as he took him deeper into the velvety walls of his mouth. One of his hands found Bucky's balls, petted them at first, then fondled them with intoxicating enthusiasm.

His reason was slowly slipping out of his mind, but he still managed to crack an eye open and caught the blond's other hand creeping into his own tight pants to palm himself.

"God…"

Rogers pleasuring himself with a cock – his cock – in his mouth almost did it for him. The blond must have felt it, for his fingers slid down further and started circling on his perineum, massaging it until Bucky couldn't take it anymore. He involuntarily buried himself deeper into Rogers' mouth, who froze a tiny fraction of time, made a gagging noise and scrunched his eyes shut.

Bucky slid down the side of the copy machine, sitting down slowly and joining Rogers on the floor.

Shiny lips pressed tightly together, Rogers gave him a sultry smile before parting them. Bucky watched, mesmerized, as his own come trickled down from the blond's mouth and pooled in the palm of his hand.

Even as spent as he was, he could feel his dick make a hopeless attempt at springing back to life.

"You tryin' to kill me… right?" he managed to slur.

Rogers grinned happily before tilting his head down.

"You really are…" Bucky marveled as the blond licked his hand clean.

"Feeling better?" the paralegal asked.

Bucky let out a helpless chuckle.

"I don't even know how to answer you. You made me lose my mind."

"Well, that's not a bad answer. Quite flattering, actually."

"Did you… Do you want me to…?"

"Don't worry. You were so hot up there I came all over my pants."

"Now, I'm the one who's sorry. Those were nice pants."

"Shut up," Rogers admonished, though not quite succeeding in hiding the gleeful note in his voice. "Hey, I hope you don't think this is a routine."

"Huh, what is?"

"Me sucking off guys in the photocopy room. I really do like you."

Bucky let the words sink in, frowning ever so slightly.

"I don't let myself get sucked off by my coworkers in the photocopy room either. Usually," he said in a careful voice.

"Good."

Rogers brought a handkerchief out from his back pocket and started cleaning them up. He stilled suddenly and leaned forward, eyes wide.

"You realize we didn't even kiss first?"

"And you're noticing that only now?" Bucky joked, notwithstanding the warmth spreading across his chest for having Rogers so close to him.

"You want to kiss or not, Mr Barnes?" the other one asked, almost serious.

"I…"

He wasn't fond of tasting his own seed, though Rogers' lips looked so very kissable.

"How about we take it slower? Maybe I can take you to dinner first?" he eluded.

"Never thought you'd be the romantic type, but why not?"

"Okay. How about tonight?"

"9 pm, is that alright? I still have research to do for a bunch of cases."

"It's definitely alright."

They finished straightening their clothes up before getting up. Bucky stood up gingerly. They were about to quit the room and get back to their tasks, but he felt like he couldn't just leave the other guy like that, that he'd miss the opportunity to put a deeper meaning to their already fortunate encounter. There was an awkward pause as Bucky blocked Rogers' way to the door.

"To hell with it," Bucky sighed before tilting his head and landing a kiss on the blond's cheek.

Rogers' laugh was both incredulous and delighted.

"I'll have you know that I'm one hell of a romantic guy," Bucky huffed in a not so dignified manner. "Just… be prepared for tonight."

"Oh I will, Mr Barnes," Rogers chirped before springing out of the room and down the hallway, leaving him alone.

"Bucky. It's Bucky… Steve."

He couldn't wait for their real, first kiss.

~finis~

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize for every mistake left! I really am in need for a beta-reader, so if you're interested, please drop me a message. ;-)


End file.
